


Chariot

by Jadynof9



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: F/F, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, It's Hard Being an xB, Original Species, vacation gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadynof9/pseuds/Jadynof9
Summary: It was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing vacation.Now Seven wrestles with the weight of her identity while their lives are on the line.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Chariot

**Author's Note:**

> A friend texted me [this link](https://youtu.be/GXsXEPrT-84), saying “Imagine Raffi singing this to Seven.”
> 
> Apparently this is what I imagined.

It would be days yet before anyone on _La Sirena_ even thought to look for them. After all, it was supposed to have been a vacation. Just a few days off after Raffi had hinted and finagled and eventually strong-armed Rios into conceding that they all needed a break. Just a few days to themselves after Seven had casually suggested that she and Raffi could use some time away from the rest of the crew, earning a roguish grin from the otherwise surly captain. Just drop them off on this little out of the way planet, so small it had no real involvement with the Federation or Starfleet or Romulans, beyond even the purview of the Rangers. Just barely evolved enough to be visited without violating any semblance of First Contact protocol. And yet somewhere between them beaming down and them reaching their accommodations, everything had gone terribly wrong.

Given their stage of technological development, it never occurred to Seven to consider that the inhabitants of this little planet had ever encountered the Borg. There was nothing of interest that the Borg would ever have bothered with, no technological or militaristic distinctiveness to merit analysis much less assimilation. When they approached the settlement, she did not think twice about the long glances she received from the locals. As an ex-Borg one adapts to any range of reactions. Seven knew she had been fortunate in that her visible implants could be passed off as peculiar ornamentation, particularly to species unfamiliar with the Borg. Unlike those from the Artifact, whose reclamation was not handled with quite as much focus on the aesthetic as hers was. Seeing what she assumed were the planet’s natives, whose physical characteristics exhibited a somewhat lupine persuasion, she had no recall of the species, meaning there was a very high probability that they had never been assimilated.

“I’d love to see how these guys interact with Caitians,” Raffi jested under her breath, knowing full well Seven could hear her. Seven gave a brief snort in response to cover the adolescent smirk the remark had elicited. She appreciated the levity as the longer they were there, the more she felt the need to remain alert. There were no overt signs that they were in danger, but years of developing the instincts that had kept her alive through dozens of situations she should not have survived were not to be taken lightly. With a hand resting lightly on Raffi’s back, the tension she found there confirmed that the equally experienced OPS officer was feeling similarly.

They had barely crossed the threshold of their destination when the attack occurred. It was a clumsy, blatant charge, two younger males with arms outstretched, broadcasting their intent to grab. Both women easily evaded in their own ways, slipping into combat mentality and preparing for the worst. While a circle began to form, no one else seemed inclined to join their attackers, bringing some sense of relief in that they were not about to be mobbed. There was also the grim reality that they weren’t about to be saved, either.

“We aren’t looking for trouble,” Raffi announced, maintaining a fighting stance. She didn’t have time to say anything else as her attacker had quickly recovered, charging again with more finesse. Despite being put down each time, the men continued to make charging passes, each one quicker and closer to landing a legitimate blow than the last. The sobering realization came all too quickly that they were being played, herded into a far more vulnerable state. Finally, the women were back to back, their attackers now circling on all fours.

“You bring trouble to us,” a deep, commanding voice proclaimed from amidst the spectators. A single character seemed to part the crowd simply by breathing, despite being of middling height and average build. His fur was startlingly black, golden eyes piercing and intelligent. He stood casually, relaxed, an indifferent expression across his features. Seven felt her stomach plummet in an instinctive response she couldn’t begin to articulate if she had tried.

“It has been a mere handful of generations since one of your kind crossed our path,” he spoke evenly, still managing to communicate a sneer toward Seven in the slight tilt of his shortened muzzle. “Borg. Chasing some ship trying to escape them. Our packs had nothing to do with the runner, and yet we were caught in the crossfire. Several were lost in that exchange. Their blood continues to cry for retribution.”

A low growl could now be heard throughout the room. Seven’s own heart raced as the situation escalated, feeling Raffi’s quickened breathing against her back. “I am unfamiliar with your species,” she declared, doing her best to buy time for one of them to figure a way out of this mess. “You were not assimilated.”

The blow was entirely unexpected. Her vision darkened as she stumbled, a muffled echo of her name cutting through the rush of her pulse in her ears as arms steadied her. Fighting the urge to shake her head, she heard Raffi curse behind her before briefly feeling a hand tap blindly across her chest.

Searching for where her comm badge should have been.

“Looking for something?” the lead male asked, only the slightest shift in tone indicating his cockiness. The two males who had been attacking now circled to his side, both holding up the _La Sirena_ badges they had taken in the midst of their attacking passes. “No, we were not assimilated. We killed any and all they tried to take before the process could be completed. We lost many more in killing the Borg that attempted it. And we will not risk them returning.” The circle began to close in. Seven wiped at the blood she could feel dripping from her lip and nose.

“I am no longer Borg,” she spoke vehemently. “I am not connected to the Collective. You have nothing to fear from me.”

He now stood toe to toe with Seven, gaze unwavering. Seven felt something nearly feral arise in response, holding his gaze in challenge, ignoring the throbbing in her jaw and the coppery taste coating her tongue. They continued to stare in silence for several seconds before he spoke.

“I, as Alpha, must protect my pack.” He said this in an almost explanatory tone, far more civil than Seven had expected. “And my pack will not allow Borg to escape. It is our way.”

Now pride edged into his voice. “You are not mere prey. You are a worthy opponent, as is your mate. We will not begrudge you your fight to survive. Any you kill will be as those who die in the hunt. Honorable. Fulfilled.”

“She is not Borg!” Seven growled through gritted teeth, a level of panic beginning to rise as she realized the danger they were in.

“But you,” the Alpha responded, not reacting to her vitriol, but raising a clawed fingertip to tap gently on her ocular implant. “You are. And she is yours.” He turned away as if that explained everything.

Seven barely remembered swinging at him after that. Just that there was an eruption of motion, and that instinct was the only thing keeping her upright.

And now here they were. Hiding in a cave, painfully grateful for the rain that now masked any scent trail they may have left. Seven knew she was nursing at least one broken rib, her skin otherwise littered with gashes and bruises. It would take time, but her nanoprobes would patch her up enough to handle any further trouble. Raffi on the other hand was pale, having taken a claw to the side leaving four deep gashes that had bled steadily, clearly causing significant pain with every breath. Seven dressed it as best she could, but as a dermal regenerator had not made it onto their list of vacation essentials, nothing much else could be done.

The guilt was enormous. Certainly, she had spent years coming to terms with the weight her Borg heritage pressed upon her shoulders. Whether it be undisguised detest of those who had somehow lost a loved one to the Borg, or blatant fear from those who had heard stories, or searing hatred from those who had lumped them in with all synthetics, or nearly lecherous desire of those who viewed ex-Borg especially as nothing more than a cash cow. She had done her best to bear the weight alone, as so few others could possibly understand it much less carry it. It wouldn’t be fair to place that on someone else. And it had taken a considerable amount of time for her to allow Raffi into the space she had. Maybe it was that damned hopeful optimism that practically oozed from Picard, leading her to believe that with the strides being made in organic-synthetic relations, the legacy of having been Borg would no longer be as stigmatizing as it once was. Maybe it was just that she wasn’t getting any younger, and she was tired of caring whether people were comfortable with her or not. Or maybe it was just because Raffi was that damn amazing, and that they understood each other in ways very few others could ever hope to. In any case, it had led to a vulnerability Seven had allowed so few times before, and certainly never to this extent.

But here, now, with Raffi severely wounded and herself in less than ideal shape, all because her implants had identified her as Borg? Try as she might to recognize that her existence did not afford her control over others’ actions, she could not separate the reality that someone she cared very deeply for was very much at risk because of her. Because she was an ex-B. Because she even _existed_.

“Hey,” came a raspy voice from further in the cave. Seven turned from her perch near the mouth of the cave where she’d been keeping watch. With the aid of her ocular implant, she did a quick check on her lover’s vitals while also taking in the details of her appearance. There was a twinge in her stomach at the shallow rise and fall of her chest, half-opened eyes peering out of the pallor across her face. Sighing, she stood to approach her, grabbing a canteen on the way. Without a word, she held it to Raffi’s lips, nodding as the woman obediently sipped what she could.

“How are you holding up?” she queried quietly as Seven pulled the canteen away. This earned her a sharply raised eyebrow.

“I hardly think you are in any condition to be concerned about my well-being.” Seven affectionately brushed a loose curl off her forehead. “The bleeding seems to have mostly stopped,” she observed clinically, gently probing the wound. She stopped at Raffi’s hissed intake of breath.

“Not exactly how I expected to be waking up after the first night of our vacation.” Seven chuckled morosely in response. “Sore and unable to move, sure, but I figured the way I got there would be much more enjoyable.” Raffi smiled as that earned a genuine laugh.

“I would have happily obliged,” the Ranger replied softly, giving Raffi an affectionate smile. Sadness crept in as the guilt continued to batter at the back of her mind. As it approached overwhelming, she moved to stand and return to her post. A light weight over her hand gave her pause, but she didn’t look down. She couldn’t.

“Seven?” She could hear the slight question in Raffi’s tone, still refused to look. “Seven.” Now more of a demand. Closing her eyes, she knew what she would find if she turned her head: love and forgiveness she didn’t deserve. Not now.

“Get out of that death trap of a mind maze you’re running circles in, babe.” Seven huffed, cheeks twitching to fight a smile. How Raffi could inject so much sass into a statement despite also sounding like she was on death’s door was a fascinating mystery. “This isn’t your fault.”

“False,” Seven rebutted quickly, turning to find exactly the expression she’d seen in her mind. She marveled at the simultaneous comforting warmth and stabbing pain it caused her. “Had you been with anyone else, anyone _not_ ex-Borg, this wouldn’t have happened.” Raffi gave a one-shouldered shrug, avoiding movement on the side of her shredded torso.

“This also wouldn’t have happened if I’d dodged left instead of right. In which case, who you are would be a moot point.” Seven found herself gently infuriated by Raffi’s challenging smirk. She didn’t _want_ to be absolved of this. She wanted to make it _right_. Uncertain how to respond, she simply shifted her hand to take hold of Raffi’s, the wounded woman gently winding their fingers together. Seven marveled at the sigh of contentment this elicited as Raffi’s eyes drifted closed. Deciding that arguing the point would not be conducive to healing, the Ranger chose instead to maintain her watch from her current position. After all, it was more defensible in a sense. Any intruders would be outlined clearly at the mouth of the cave, allowing her a clear shot. She was momentarily grateful she had refused to leave the ship without at least a phaser, though equally frustrated that she had had it in her pack rather than holstered, where it would have been useful during their fight.

Running through defensive scenarios in her head as she stared out into the now raging downpour, she caught something more melodic on the edge of her hearing. It was soothing, low, broken up by the rhythm of Raffi’s shallow breathing. Curious, she focused her hearing on the tune even as her eyes remained glued on the entrance. As the tune progressed, mumbled syllables were heard but not quite comprehensible.

“Are you…singing?” she finally asked, turning to gaze down at Raffi again. The melody stopped and Raffi’s chest stilled momentarily; apparently she hadn’t realized she was actually making any sounds out loud. After a moment, Raffi released the held breath, a slight blush apparent on her pale cheeks.

“Old, old song my gran used to sing when I was struggling,” she explained quietly, forcing even Seven’s enhanced senses to focus intently so as not to miss something. “Guess it popped in my head because I wanted to make you feel better the same way.”

Seven didn’t even try to hide her incredulity. “I can’t possibly be worth this to you,” she finally spoke, too shocked to try and filter anything. Raffi simply smiled.

“Our future is,” she declared confidently. “Which is why I fully intend to pull through this and take advantage of every second of pampering you will be offering when we get home.”

When there was no response after several seconds, Raffi opened her eyes. She couldn’t help a brief, if painful, laugh at Seven’s expression. Rarely was the xB so completely befuddled. “Don’t give up on us just because we’re a little worse for wear,” she offered, feeling her mind start to go fuzzy around the edges as the few energy reserves she had were draining. “I’m counting on you be just as stubborn as I am to get us out of this. We just need to hold out until we get a bit of luck on our side.”

Seven found that her guilt remained, as did her firm belief that at the very least in this moment Raffi would’ve been better off had the Ranger never entered her life. She also found she could not resist the light Raffi offered, the force of her determination to carry both of them forward, even in this battered state. Still in awe, Seven brought their hands up, sealing her conviction with a firm kiss on the back of Raffi’s hand. Raffi’s eyes drifted close, a semblance of peace resting on her features.

“When you’re low, I’ll lead you home, chariot,” she sang softly, squeezing Seven’s hand as best she could. Exhaustion was starting to creep in however, and sleep cradled her before the next breath could carry any other lyrics to Seven.

Seven returned her gaze to the cave entrance, phaser in one hand and Raffi’s hand in the other. Stubborn she could do. Stubborn she _would_ do.

They had a future to get back to building.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing has definitely been neglected over the past several weeks. Mostly it’s been lack of time and energy, and the rest is just drowning under all the things going on in the world _causing_ the lack of time and energy. But getting this done (as well as _finally_ getting the next chapter for the Elnor fic done) definitely helped a bit. Hope you all enjoyed <3
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated!


End file.
